Wishing For You
by purplecloak9
Summary: Passion had never been apart of her lofty vocabulary, not until the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, when Lily’s emerald eyes had sparkled. She had never before been tempted by another human.


_The rumor is that Lily and James Potter are—are—that they're—dead._

Lily's name stuck in her throat. She knew she had been babbling just a few moments ago, but that Albus, the omniscient, knew already _had_ known for longer than Minerva had known herself. She had danced around the feeling for many years, but she had eventually put the pieces together: the sidelong glances, the heightened speed of her pulse whenever she caught a glimpse of red hair, the unnatural animosity she had been experiencing toward the ever-smiling James Potter, the way her mouth always seemed to twitch up whenever Lily twisted her lips in a grin in the direction of her aging Transfiguration professor.

It made no sense, but at the same time, all the pieces fit together into such a glittering quilt that Minerva knew she would never have to brave the winter months again. Perhaps she was too old to fall in love—she knew she was too, something, she wasn't sure what exactly it was, to fall in love with another woman—and she was acutely aware of how other people would whisper about her.

_Lily and James…I can't believe it…I didn't want to believe it…Oh, Albus…_

Minerva was so distraught that she couldn't even be properly angry at Dumbledore, to whom she had silently entrusted Lily's safety. The thought of Lily—her soft curves, most recently swollen with child—cold and lifeless, green light surrounding her with an iridescent hue, her capable hand clasped in that of James for eternity provoked violent shivers running up and down her spine.

She longed to fall to the ground, she wanted to curl up in a ball of her own misery, to scream and hit and cry and wipe her mucous on the sleeve of her robes without reserve, irritating an already red nose.

_Yes, he'll have that scar forever._

It was a crippling weight, and Minerva remembered why she had waited for so long to finally succumb to love. The hurt couldn't be healthy, the hurt couldn't be normal. It was a harsh reality—that the next time she roamed into the Transfiguration section in Flourish and Blotts and peeked over the shelves into the Charms section, Lily wouldn't be there, skimming the material, a slight smile curving her lips.

Minerva's desires had never been completely sated, though she doubted that even had Lily spent all her nights and days in Minerva's company, her study, her bed—it wouldn't have been enough to quell her hunger. Passion had never been apart of her lofty vocabulary, not until the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, when Lily's emerald eyes had sparkled, her arms crossed over her chest, underneath her breasts, the old t-shirt she wore proclaiming something enthusiastic about the Appleby Arrows riding up just enough to expose a slash of silky skin.

That was the first time Minerva had ever been truly tempted by another human.

Of course, Minerva knew such things were possible. She had broken up trysts between student lovers since her first year teaching, and sometimes they weren't the usual, boy with his shirttails not tucked into his trousers and his girlfriend, the buttons of her Oxford buttoned in the wrong holes. Sometimes two girls or two boys, blushing—or not, some were vexingly bold—would fall out of a broom cupboard, and Minerva would have to stutter out a reprimand, set detentions, and send them on their way, saving her blush for until after her rounds when she was locked securely in her private quarters, safe from attraction, safe from impulsiveness and love.

_A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of._

When Lily had come to see her at Hogwarts, to seek advice on the baby growing inside of her, Minerva was torn between surprise and jealousy.

Jealously because it sent all sorts of visions into Minerva's mind of James kissing Lily greedily, hands roaming her body roughly, without the proper reverence that was necessary when confronting such an elegant beauty as Lily Evans.

And, well, she was surprised that she would be the one Lily chose to confide in—Lily had always been closer to Flitwick and Slughorn because they taught her favorite classes. Transfiguration hadn't been Lily's forte, preferring the less rigid curriculum presented by Charms and Potions. Furthermore, Minerva was probably less knowledgeable about children and family than her male colleagues. But, unable to refuse Lily anything, Minerva had accepted her into her private study, where the two took afternoon tea.

"I just feel irresponsible," Lily had said sheepishly. "Negligent, even, to have created a child in this war. I mean, who knows how long any of us are going to be around."

A sharp pain had flashed though Minerva's heart at the thought of Lily dying. "How does James feel about it?"

Lily shook her head. "He's confident as ever, sure that if we work in the Order that the world will be Voldemort free by the time the baby's born."

Minerva watched Lily intently, finally asking, "How do you really feel about it?" She didn't want to hear Lily's sensible dialogue; though that was one of the reasons she loved Lily. This time she wanted to hear her deepest internal monologue, her heart.

Lily's face split into the most beautiful, bright smile that it made Minerva's heart leap at the sight. Lily's hair, Lily's smile, Lily's laugh, it seemed like a vision of water in the desert, like Minerva's own deepest desires had been projected out into the world because she needed so badly to see it. "What do you _feel _about this baby?" she asked again, gently.

"I feel… weightless," Lily replied, beaming. "I feel like Voldemort could hit me with the Killing Curse and I'd live to see the other side of it. We're going to name it Amelia Renee if it's a girl, for James' mother. And if it's a boy we want Harry, Harry James," she finished, with a look of tenderness aimed at her belly.

Something must have showed on her face because Lily raised a hand to her cheek, drawing the two women closer together, knees brushing from their separate chairs. "I've seen the way you look at me, Minerva." She shivered at the intensity of Lily's gaze, but couldn't tear her eyes away from those emerald orbs. "And I think you have the most grace, regality, and intelligence of anyone I have ever met."

With that sentence hanging out in the air like an enchanted paper aeroplane, Lily kissed Minerva firmly on the lips.

Many years later, Xiamora would find out that Minerva had never been on a broom before, and would arrange for a private lesson, just the two of them. While even flying paled in comparison with Lily's pliable lips, it was the closest thing to the feeling of kissing Lily as she would ever get again. The kiss had been everything anyone could ever want in a kiss—it was gentle yet decisive, it stayed safe but there was also enough exploration for Minerva to feel completely out of her element, yet she enjoyed the momentary loss of control. Yes, she had always been the leader, but Lily was strong enough that she could let the broom handle go and still feel secure in Lily's ability to steer them safely.

All too soon it was over. She was gasping for breath, and Lily pulled away with a smile playing across her lips, a darker red than usual from the kissing.

_A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky._

The moment did not breed an affair—though she doubted Lily ever told James—and Minerva was strangely glad for it. She didn't ever love Lily any less, but perhaps it wasn't her mission in life to give herself to someone else. That moment had been enough to keep her lips burning for the rest of her life, but she was glad that her heart belonged to herself many times over the years, especially during the second war, when her sacrifices were discreet and tidy because someone needed to give themselves to the war, just like Albus had. And that was exactly what Minerva did, she couldn't have given Lily her heart, when Lily was the only one it had wanted to belong to, because Minerva had kept her heart for herself.

Minerva had kept her heart for herself, and had given her body and her magic to the war.


End file.
